In Which Cimorene Settles In as Chief Cook and Deals With Politics
by Beatrice Otter
Summary: what it says on the tin


**Written for:** ApocalypseAngel in Yuletide 2018

 **Betaed by:** mlraven

* * *

Dragons, Cimorene had realized in the months that she had been Kazul's princess, were not very tidy creatures. It wasn't that they were filthy, exactly, only that a great deal of cleaning required either dexterity or an ability to get into the corners to clean things. Dragons had large hands with even larger claws which were excellent for hunting or fighting, but not as good as human hands for, say, scrubbing out the corners of the kitchen counters. Or polishing all the tarnish off of the silverware. (Or off of the silver in the treasure rooms.)

King Tokoz had been an excellent king in his day, Cimorene had been told, but he had not been a great housekeeper; and while there was a staff of dragons who came in to do the large-scale cleaning, the nooks and crannies had obviously not been touched in some time.

"I suppose you'll be putting me out of a job," Paxon said, eyeing her suspiciously as she scrubbed some of the aforementioned nooks and crannies that would have to be taken care of before she would be comfortable cooking in the (otherwise well-appointed) kitchen. Paxon was young, too young to have chosen a gender yet. Cimorene was surprised they were old enough to be out on their own with a job, but was too polite to say anything.

"Are you the cook?" she asked. They'd been introduced, so she knew Paxon was one of the King's staff, but nobody had told her what Paxon's job was. And once all of Kazul's belongings had been deposited, the rest of the hauling crew had taken off, leaving Paxon here alone with her. Kazul was off doing something official, Cimorene hadn't caught what in all the confusion of moving, and so it was just Cimorene and Paxon alone in the King's apartments.

"No," Paxon said, "I'm the junior cleaner. I do the kitchen, dining hall, and smaller store-rooms. And if you sack us all, I'm sure I don't know how I shall earn a hoard decent enough to be worth my own cave, let alone _set_ of caves."

"I'm going to be the Cook and Librarian," Cimorene said. "Not the cleaner. I'll have far too much to do with the cooking and organizing of the library and treasure rooms to do the cleaning, as well; it was too large a job for one Princess back in Kazul's caves, which were nothing compared to _these_ ones."

"That's such a nice set of caves she had," Paxon said, sighing. "They used to belong to one of my father's friends, and we visited a few times before he lost them. Very large and surprisingly well-appointed for that section of the mountains. I'd love a set of caves like _that_ some day."

"How do dragons get caves?" Cimorene asked. "Do you buy them?"

Paxon wrinkled its nose. " _Buy_ them? Like they were a piece of property?"

"Aren't they?" Cimorene asked.

"Of course not!" Paxon said. "Or, if they are, it's one that belongs to all dragons in common, not any one dragon in particular. You can't hoard _land_. All dragons are guaranteed a place to live in the Mountains, but if you haven't got much treasure or haven't done anything worth talking about, it might not be very nice or large. And if you're very young," Paxon said glumly, "it might just be with your parents."

"I see," said Cimorene, who did see, and wondered how well this young dragon got along with its parents. Or, from its tone of voice, didn't get along.

"And then there are jobs, like King or Queen and a few others, that come with specific caves," Paxon said.

"I suppose the size and quality of the King's residence reflects on the honor and prestige of all dragons," Cimorene said.

"Exactly!" Paxon said. "And also, the King has to be in a central location, close to the rest of the government, and they've got far more important things to do than clean and so forth. It's a good job, you know," Paxon said earnestly, "cleaning for the King. If you save, you can increase your hoard at quite a respectable rate without needing to go out and find a town to pillage or anything. _And_ you get to know all the important people, and sometimes _they_ get to know you, and if there's something interesting going on, you nearly always hear about it first."

"I see," Cimorene said. "May I ask what all the usual staff King Tokoz had were? So I know what responsibilities are already being taken care of."

Paxon hesitated. "Well, I don't know what all advisors and such he had."

"I'm sure Kazul will take care of the governing end of things," Cimorene said. "That's her job as King, after all. I'm worried about managing the household and things. There doesn't seem to be a housekeeper or seneschal or butler or anything, or at least, I wasn't introduced to one."

"What's a seneschal? Or a butler?" Paxon asked. "And there's no _house_ , so why would you need someone to keep it?"

"Ah," said Cimorene, slightly taken aback. "Those are all different terms for the senior servants in Human castles."

"Oh, we don't really go in for servants like humans do," Paxon said. "Except for Princesses, which are different."

"Then what are you?" Cimorene asked.

"I'm a janitor, of course," Paxon said. "There's three of us—Maugrek has been on the longest, so she's in charge and when the treasure rooms have to be swept, she's the one who does it."

"So that takes care of cleaning," Cimorene said. "What about cooking?"

"King Tokoz cooked for himself, mostly, or ate wild game," Paxon said. "Or he might have ordered in from one of the restaurants—there are several very good ones in this part of the Mountains, what with all the high officials living nearby. And I think there's an enchanted buffet table that does at least part of the work for royal feasts. He didn't have a cook."

"And what about la—decorating for parties and things," Cimorene said. She'd almost said 'laundry,' before remembering that since dragons didn't wear clothing, they didn't need to wash lots of fabric on a regular basis, and anyway, Kazul had a magic wardrobe that could probably do the cleaning for you, if you wanted it to.

"He had a couple of great-grandchildren who helped haul out the nicer bits of treasure to place in strategic places whenever he had important visitors."

"And what about organizing and polishing his treasure?" Cimorene asked.

"Oh, he did that himself, of course," Paxon said. "Except that one time a couple of years ago when he got some dwarves in for a major restoration project."

"And the library?"

"There's an Archivist, who maintains the official records, and he lives nearby," Paxon said. "But Tokoz's own library, I don't know."

"I see," Cimorene said. It was certainly a far smaller staff than any human royalty she'd ever heard of, even when you considered that dragon royalty would have no need for stable hands, gardeners, huntsmen, personal guards, or any number of other roles. "How much time do you spend cleaning a day?" If he didn't live here—and there was no room for live-in draconic staff—then he couldn't do the sort of all-day-and-half-the-night labor that human servants were expected to do.

"Oh, a couple of hours a day, on average," Paxon said. "I fit it in around my lessons and things. And then of course, we had to come in and clean things special after King Tokoz died, and help his family pack up all his personal belongings. One of his great-great-grandchildren tried to nick one of the smaller royal jewels! _I_ was the one who caught that, though of course they argued that he'd simply been mistaken."

"Thank you for your diligence," Cimorene said.

Paxon preened. "Maugrek said it was very well done."

"I'm sure it was," Cimorene said. "And do you have any special duties today?"

"I'm to help you get settled in," Paxon said. "And help you organize everything. Maugrek and the rest will be here tomorrow to help again, but they get a break this afternoon because of all the overtime. I don't, because I'm too junior." This last was said with an air of aggrievement.

"Thank you," Cimorene said. "Why don't we get started on the personal treasure rooms? You can unpack, while I organize."

"Oh!" Paxon said. "I would be honored!"

* * *

"Kazul was right when she said the move would take weeks," Cimorene said, sipping her tea. It was excellent; apparently, besides loving Turkish coffee, old King Tokoz had loved lapsang souchong tea, and had imported the very best he could find. Kazul didn't care for it herself, so Cimorene was drinking it. She made sure to keep enough to serve guests, but there was no point in letting it go stale.

"I wouldn't have thought it would take so long," Morwen said, raising her eyebrows. "After all, dragons can move a great deal of freight in a _very_ short time."

"Yes, but it's the _arranging_ that's the issue," Cimorene said. "Well, and the really precious or delicate parts of Kazul's treasure hoard that she didn't trust anyone but herself or me to pack and transport. The thing is, Kazul isn't fussy herself about décor, but it might almost be easier if she were."

"What, did she turn the whole thing over to you?" Morwen said.

"Yes," Cimorene said glumly. "I like organizing and arranging, but it helps to know what I'm organizing _for_. The personal rooms, like Kazul's sleeping chamber and the personal treasuries, I can just set up like they were back in the old caves. But most of the other places are going to be used for various royal duties, and _those_ come with protocol, which means everything has to be just so. And some come already furnished, with things that go with the job of king, and others the king is supposed to supply themselves, and some things are expected to be done exactly the way they've always been done and some are very flexible, and—"

"And you were never very fond of protocol to begin with," Morwen said knowingly. "Wasn't that why you ran away to become a dragon's princess in the first place?"

"That and trying to get out of marrying Therandil," Cimorene said. "Or someone like him. But you're right. I never liked protocol to begin with, but at least I do have training in the human version of it as practiced in Linderwall and the surrounding kingdoms. Dragon protocol is just similar enough to really trip me up. I could set up a throne room for Linderwall in my sleep."

"But dragons don't have thrones."

"Exactly."

Morwen shrugged. "Well, being an intelligent and forthright person, I assume you've gotten yourself someone to help with it? Or at least a book?"

"There don't seem to be any books, but I've been consulting with Roxim and the King's Secretary and the Archivist and the rest of the officials and the Head Janitor—and honestly, Maugrek has been more help than anybody—but it's still a monumental task." Cimorene sighed and stared glumly into her tea.

"Monumental it may be, but you seem to be accomplishing it well enough," Morwen said, "judging from the tour you gave when I got here. You're not one to complain about things you can do something about. What's the real problem?"

Cimorene opened her mouth, closed it, and thought for a bit. This was one of the reasons she liked talking to Morwen; she was very perceptive, and rarely missed anything. "I've been thinking a lot about my lessons, when I was at home in Linderwall," Cimorene said thoughtfully. "Mostly the protocol ones that I hated."

"Unsurprising, in the circumstances," Morwen said. "Given that you are now having to deal with such things in the real world."

"A lot of the things I've been doing would have been done by my father's seneschal or the butler or the housekeeper," Cimorene said, "but a lot of the others are things my mother mostly took care of."

"Not the cleaning, obviously," Morwen said.

"No, but the arranging. Who sits where at state dinners. In what room does the king receive a particular visitor, and how is that room arranged, and that sort of thing. The servants did the work, but my mother did the planning."

"Did you help with it?" Morwen asked.

Cimorene shrugged. "Occasionally? Mostly, my two eldest sisters did. I just got lectured and quizzed by our governess."

"No wonder you hated it, if you never got to do it in practice," Morwen said. "You are not very academically minded, Cimorene; have you ever noticed that all those things you set out to learn on the side were all things that required action and participation on your part? Cooking and fencing and magic and so on. Things where a theoretical discussion of the subject is only a very small part of what you do."

"I never thought of it that way," Cimorene admitted, "but you're right. Oh, but what about Latin? _That_ is an abstract subject."

"It still has a tangible result, in that one can then speak and read in Latin," Morwen pointed out. "And you like reading. And there are so many interesting books in Latin."

"I suppose you have a point," Cimorene said.

"In any case, it reflects very poorly on your teachers that they did not figure this out and tailor their lessons to your abilities," Morwen said. "From what you've told me before, it seems to me that when you were having trouble or resisting, they simply redoubled their efforts, without ever considering if there might be another approach." She sipped her tea.

"I think they did, a little," Cimorene said. "Looking back, I don't know that my older sisters got such detailed instruction in the proper forms for, say, being abducted by a giant. And I _did_ like those lessons the best, although the fact that I thought the princess parts were stupid and boring didn't help with the fact that I thought the _rest_ of my lessons were stupid and boring, either. Especially the protocol lessons!"

"Which you never got to use on a practical basis," Morwen said. "How do you feel about protocol now you're putting it to actual use?"

"Some parts of it are still absurd or boring," Cimorene said. "And I wish I'd had more formal lessons in dragon protocol before becoming the King's Cook and Librarian. But for the most part, it's oddly fascinating. What protocol actually _is_ , in practice, turns out to be the agreed-upon set of rules for how people get along together."

Morwen nodded. "Usually, even if you don't understand why something is important, knowing that other people think it is can make it so much easier to deal with them."

"Oh, yes!" Cimorene said. "Even if the rules are bad or stupid, you have to know what they are before you break them, if you want to make it count. Governing the realm requires people to work together. I'm still not quite sure how it all works for dragons, but it seems to me that the King has far less power—and ordinary dragons far more—than in a human society. The King can't command, in most situations, they have to persuade … and that means that making sure people got along and worked together was even more important."

"Making protocol very important."

"I don't think I'll ever love protocol for its own sake," Cimorene said. "But I don't hate it any more." She thought for a second. "And I think I'm feeling a little bit guilty for how useless I thought my mother was. She spent most of her days making sure our court ran smoothly. But now I wonder: how much of my father's success came from mother making sure all the little details were taken care of?"

"Probably more than he would admit, if you asked him," Morwen said dryly.

* * *

Cimorene was sitting in the smaller receiving room with Drigez, the King's Secretary, going over plans for Kazul's first state dinner. It was smaller only by comparison to the great cavern that was the larger receiving room, for it was at least as large as the throne room in her father's main castle back in Linderwall. Cimorene would not be cooking _everything_ , for it was impossible for one person to cook so much food all at once, but she was planning it and overseeing it and doing a great deal of the more fiddly bits personally. The same large hands that made it difficult for dragons to clean nooks and crannies also made it difficult to do the more fiddly and intricate bits of cooking and baking.

"Are you sure you'll be able to make the game pie sculpture?" Drigez asked worriedly, once they were done hammering out the seating chart.

"Oh, yes," Cimorene said with a smile. "I've been practicing. It won't be quite as elaborate as what my Mother would have served for such an occasion, but both Roxim and Maugrek say it's fancier than anything they ever saw at one of Tokoz's state dinners. _And_ they thought it tasted excellent." And she could trust their judgment. Roxim might look on her with benevolent approval, but he hadn't the tact to soften any criticisms he might have. As for Maugrek, her professional pride would see that the King received only the best.

"Good," Drigez said, relaxing back onto his cushioned perch. "Ah!" he straightened back up as Paxon entered with a letter clutched in its hand. "I'd been wondering what was keeping that."

"Actually, this is for the Chief Cook," Paxon said, heading for Cimorene instead.

"I hope it's not the greengrocer saying they can't get the pineapples after all," Cimorene said worriedly. It couldn't be a letter from Alianora; she'd just gotten one yesterday. While the dragons _had_ a postal system, they rarely used it, as travel was so much quicker and easier for them than for most beings. A dragon with a message would simply come in person. So would a dragon's princess. So would Morwen, as the Enchanted Forest _didn't_ have a postal system. And Cimorene couldn't think of anyone else who would want to contact her.

She took the envelope from Paxon and studied it. The handwriting was the anonymous perfection of a scribe, but she knew the seal as well as she knew her own face. It was her mother's.

* * *

"Of course your mother can come visit, you're not a prisoner," Kazul said. "Although, you can't receive her in the King's quarters."

"Of course not," Cimorene said. "It would look like an official statement of support for Linderwall, unless you invited every other human queen who wanted to do the same thing."

"Which I am _certainly_ not going to do," Kazul said, "I have enough work without _that_. And you can't use one of the public meeting rooms, for the same reason." She paused in thought. "You could take her to eat at a restaurant, or something. Show her some dragon cuisine."

Cimorene laughed. "She'd be horrified! Humans don't have restaurants, we have inns and taverns and things, and no lady of the royal family would be caught _dead_ in one. Could we use your old caves? It would give us a place to talk in private that wasn't related to your office, and if I timed it so that Paxon is doing the final cleaning of them before they're released back to the Cavern Quarters Master, it would be obvious it's not a clandestine meeting, either."

"That should work," Kazul said.

* * *

Cimorene's mother was, as always, precisely on time. This was all the more impressive considering the fact that the narrow approach to Kazul's old caves meant she had to walk some distance, which she was not used to doing. Nevertheless, she was there on time, unsoiled by dirt or grime or sweat, every hair perfectly in place. It was a mark of how skilled her waiting women were … and also made Cimorene slightly suspicious. Was this just her mother's normal attention to detail, or did she have a particular reason for wanting to look her absolute best?

"Hello, Mother, I'm glad you could make it," Cimorene said, giving Queen Wynellise a kiss on the cheek, which her mother returned warmly. "It's been too long. Tell me, how is everyone?"

Before talking about how her sisters were doing, Wynellise insisted on a full accounting of her time with the dragons. Only after she'd heard everything her youngest daughter had been up to since leaving home did her mother turn to the familiar subject of court gossip. Getting caught up on all the marriages, births, deaths, kidnappings, curses, wars, and other assorted goings-on of their close family, friends, and extended relations took the better part of an hour, during which Cimorene served her mother tea and Paxon interrupted twice for clarification or instruction. After _that_ they went on a tour of the caves because, as Wynellise had in her youth been kidnapped by a giant and not a dragon, she had never seen a dragon's cave before.

"They do seem to be quite comfortable," Wynellise said.

"I know," Cimorene said. "I had imagined something cold and damp, but dragons know how to keep things comfortable. Well, the amount of body heat they put out makes a lot of difference, and then they've got quite a sophisticated set of climate control spells to keep things comfortable and direct excess moisture to cisterns."

"Oh, how clever," Wynellise said politely. "These caves are quite large, it would have been interesting to see what they were like furnished. I don't suppose we could see King Kazul's current residence?"

"Oh, no," Cimorene said. She'd been expecting some oblique probe on the subject, and had an excuse ready. "They're still not quite ready for public viewing. Moving is such a large job, and of course there were things that needed to be refurnished, and you know such things always take more time than one thinks."

"Of course," Wynellise said, and began a short reminiscence about the time one of the family hunting lodges had had a minor fire and needed to be completely redone.

But a few minutes later, she turned the subject back to Kazul. "I was hoping to see her Majesty," Wynellise said. "She is, after all, your captor and protector and I was hoping to speak with the dragon who holds my beloved child's life in her hands."

"Her majesty is very busy," Cimorene said firmly, "all the more so as she is new to her job and still catching up. Besides, King Tokoz had been elderly for quite some time, before he died, and while he made quite sure that all the important things were taken care of, there were a lot of minor issues that were allowed to build up." It wasn't that she thought her mother was lying to try and get an audience with the King of the Dragons; even though they had often butted heads during Cimorene's youth, Wynellise did genuinely love and care for her. (Cimorene would have put a lot higher value on that if her mother had ever appreciated her for who she was, rather than who her mother wanted her to be.) The thing was, though, that Wynellise never did anything for only one reason. She was very economical that way.

"I'm sure," Wynellise said. "Still. I care about you, and want to make sure you're taken care of."

"I can take care of myself, Mother," Cimorene said firmly. "Or, if I couldn't, I'd have let a knight or a prince rescue me long since. I'm here because I want to be."

"Of course," her mother said, "I know you've always been independent. But you are so far away, and if something happened, I couldn't do anything for you."

Cimorene opened her mouth to suggest her mother write to Cimorene regularly to keep in touch and allay her fears, before considering. Wynellise never did anything for only one reason, and in part she was here because she loved Cimorene and they hadn't seen one another in a long time. But what was her other reason? If all she wanted was to open a dialogue with Kazul, a letter would have sufficed.

"What's the other reason you want to see her?" Cimorene asked. She didn't have the patience for the sort of verbal fencing her mother was so adept at.

"I wanted to invite you home for a visit," her mother said. "And I thought it might be more likely to be granted if the request came directly from me."

"I might be able to come for a _visit_ ," Cimorene said, "as long as that was _all_ it was. And I'm not a prisoner; it would be my choice, not Kazul's. This is my home now, mother, and I _like_ it here. I want to stay as Kazul's Chief Cook and Librarian for a long, long time. I do miss you all and I'd love to visit, but not if you or Father tried to keep me in Linderwall—or marry me off against my will."

"I think we have _all_ learned the folly of _that_ , my dear," her mother said dryly. "The consequences of you running away just before the betrothal announcement were a large enough headache the _first_ time, I shudder to think what would happen if we tried it again. Couldn't you have waited until we were back in Linderwall, dear? It would have been so much easier to manage; saying that you'd been abducted instead of running away would have been much simpler to spread around. The Sathemites were … quite unhappy with us."

"In the first place, I couldn't have made it across Linderwall _and_ Sathem-by-the-mountains to get here," Cimorene said, "and in the second, I had only three weeks to come up with something. It wasn't long enough that I could risk losing my chance."

Her mother sighed. "I'm sorry. In retrospect, it was a mistake to try and do things behind your back. But you are always so _contrary._ I thought that if we could just get it _done_ with, you'd find it wasn't bad after all. Queen Ranaeril of Sathem would have been such a great mentor for you, and with Therandil the martial type, he wouldn't have been home often. Those types are always away having adventures and hunting and going to tournaments and things while their wives run the kingdom. And I think you would have liked running a kingdom much better than you liked sitting at home taking lessons, and as the youngest, the only way for you to do _that_ would be to marry a crown prince."

Cimorene sagged in her chair. She'd never really thought that much about it, or _let_ herself thing about it, what her parents had tried to do to her. She'd gotten out, she'd escaped, and that was that.

But her parents really _did_ love her, even if they didn't understand her, and her mother's words had a sort of horrifying sense to them. If you only considered "proper" options, hers had been limited to marrying a prince or high nobleman, or not marrying and becoming a spinster, forever dependent on the goodwill of her parents and married sisters. None of whom understood her or sympathized with her point of view. _That_ would have driven her crazy.

As for marriage … if she couldn't find a husband who understood her and didn't mind a wife who wasn't proper, the best she could probably hope for would have been an absent husband with a kingdom she could run. Like the one her mother had, apparently, tried to arrange for her. And it wouldn't have been a terrible life. Just … not anywhere near as good as this one.

"I know you wanted what you thought was best for me, mother," Cimorene said carefully. "But if you'd spent more time thinking about who I am instead of who you wanted me to be …" she trailed off. What? If her parents had been more understanding, she'd never have had to leave, and she'd never have ended up here. And she _liked_ where she was.

"I know," Wynellise said. "I'm sorry. And I would like to try to put things right between us. Which is why I will never try to prevent you from coming back to Kazul, if you visit us."

"What about Father?" Cimorene asked.

"Well, you know how he is when he gets an idea in his head. He won't like it, but I assure you, I can handle him." Her mother gave her a firm nod.

"I know you can," Cimorene said.

"So will you come?" Wynellise asked.

"I don't know, I'd have to ask Kazul, and it depends on the timing," Cimorene said. "You would not _believe_ how busy I've been in the last few weeks—or maybe you would."

"Well, then surely a holiday would do you good," her mother pointed out. "Sometime in the next two months would be ideal. And I realize it's such a long way to travel, but surely Kazul could send one of her servants to carry you; it would only be a short stretch of the wings for a dragon."

"We'll see," Cimorene said.

* * *

Polishing Kazul's treasure was excellent for thinking. It kept her hands busy, while her mind was free to work. It had been … quite an emotional visit. She couldn't help wondering what her life would have been like if her mother had been willing to admit she was wrong when Cimorene was younger and still living under her power.

But frustrating as certain parts of her childhood and adolescence had been, there had been more good parts than bad. Happy memories of playing and singing and dancing with her sisters, or going for picnics with the whole family, or hundreds of others. She didn't want to live there, but she _would_ like to visit, even if only for a little while.

"Cimorene, I'm done for the day," Paxon said, poking its head in the treasure room.

"Oh!" Cimorene said, startled. "Of course. I'll see you the day after tomorrow, then?"

"Yes," Paxon said, frowning at her. "Are you all right? Only you usually hear me coming." While dragons could move quietly on stone when they wanted to, being large lizards with sharp claws, it was not something they were good at.

"Just thinking," Cimorene said. "I wish Alianora or Morwen lived closer. I'd like to talk something over with a friend, and Kazul is so busy these days."

"Huh," Paxon said. "Have you tried making new friends? There are a couple of new princesses, since the trials."

"Where from, do you know?" Cimorene asked. This wasn't something she'd like to talk over with a stranger, but more friends was never a bad thing, and it would be nice to have friends close by, as well.

"How should I know?" Paxon said blankly. "All human kingdoms look alike from the air."

* * *

As it turned out, one of the new princesses was Princess Elamoira of Haugveil, which was near enough to Linderwall that Cimorene had met her. Although Elamoira had been much closer with Cimorene's older sisters than with her, she would probably appreciate a familiar face.

And it would also give Cimorene some insight into any ulterior motives her mother might have had. Cimorene didn't doubt her mother's sincerity at all, but being sincere didn't mean she couldn't have also had something else up her sleeve.

"Oh! My dear Princess Cimorene," Elamoira said, sweeping her an elegant curtsy. "How kind of you to remember me and visit me here in captivity."

"You're welcome," Cimorene said, with a curtsy of her own. "How are you finding things so far?'

"She hasn't hurt me, or seriously threatened me," Elamoira said, "but she's been very upset that I can't cook. I can plan a menu, of course, but not actually _make_ anything. There are cookbooks, and things, and I've been doing my best, but that's not … very good. And it isn't improving. And I don't want to think about how angry she'll get if I don't get better."

"Well!" Cimorene said. " _That's_ something I can help with. Would you like a lesson?"

"Thank you!" said Elamoira, with heartfelt cheer. "I do apologize for imposing, but it would be very much appreciated."

"You know, given how common it is for princesses to do a stint working for dragons or giants or what-have-you, and how much training we get for how to behave as we're carried off, you'd think it would occur to people that a few basic skills—like cooking—would be very helpful when it happens."

Cimorene gave Elamoira a very basic lesson in cooking, after which they had tea and caught up on all that had happened since they saw each other last. Elamoira was more an acquaintance than a friend, so Cimorene glossed over the details, but Elamoira was happy enough to hear the story.

"So if he was happy with the switch, why is Therandil making trouble now?" Elamoira asked.

"Making trouble?" Cimorene asked. "What kind of trouble?"

"Going around with a party of knights to make trouble along the border with Linderwall, mostly," Elamoira said. "And telling everyone it's because you and your family insulted him by breaking the marriage contract."

"I have no idea," Cimorene said, mystified. "He was happy enough at the time; he didn't like me any

more than I liked him, he just worried about what people expected." She thought for a bit. "He _is_ very suggestible, though. If someone put him up to it …"

"I hear his new bride doesn't care for you much," Elamoira said.

"Keredwel?" Cimorene said. "We didn't get on, but we didn't _not_ get along. We only met the once." She paused, thoughtfully. "Unless Alianora was right, and she got offended by being rescued by a second-hand prince."

* * *

The next time Morwen visited, Cimorene laid it all out for her. "And I feel guilty, because if it weren't for me, Keredwel and Therandil wouldn't be making trouble. But even _if_ Kazul were willing to get involved in a Human political dispute, I simply don't have _time_ for a visit right now." She shook her head. "Every time I turn around, there's some new thing that needs to happen or some new dinner to be planned. Kazul's got all these ideas of what to do about various issues—the wizards especially—but that means convincing people she's right and getting them to do what she wants, and _that_ means wining and dining them."

"It seems to me, Cimorene, that there are a number of issues here, and it may help to examine them separately." Morwen adjusted her glasses. "First, what Therandil and Keredwel choose to do is not your fault. Yes, even if it's because they blame you for something. You did not try to harm either of them; in fact, you tried to do something that benefitted them as much as you. The fact that they are being twits about it is because they are twits. It is unfortunate, but such people exist in the world, and they do insist on blaming others for their own bad behavior, but that does not mean it is anyone's fault but their own."

"I suppose so," Cimorene said. "But if I hadn't run away and broken the betrothal—"

"You weren't betrothed yet, if I remember the sequence of events," Morwen pointed out. "And even if your parents had signed treaties, betrothals require consent, which you did not give. Treaties and alliances between kingdoms often break down in the negotiating stage. It is unreasonable to be making trouble about it this long after the fact, and when he's already found another bride."

"Well, that's true," Ciimorene said.

"Second, your parents are competent rulers of a very large and prosperous kingdom," Morwen said. "I doubt it's the first time they've had trouble with their neighbors, and I doubt it will be the last. You should trust them to be able to handle their duties."

"I do," Cimorene said. "I just feel like _I_ have a duty to help. Even if it's not my fault Therandil and Keredwel are twits."

Morwen shrugged. "Possibly. Though I would maintain that trying to force you into a marriage you didn't want rather severed their claims to your loyalty. In any case, that brings me to my third and fourth points."

"Which are?" Cimorene said.

"Third, that Kazul would probably not mind getting involved in this case," Morwen said. "Even just by implication. Now, Kazul wouldn't want to commit the dragons to being on anybody's side, but she doesn't like twits any more than you or I do. Less, if we're being honest."

"True," Cimorene said. "On the other hand, even if she came in person, Therandil probably wouldn't be intimidated. He defeated Gornul, after all, and I'm not sure he'd recognize the difference between fighting Gornul with a jinn's blessing, and fighting Kazul."

"His parents or courtiers might be more impressed, though," Morwen said.

"And they could rein him in," Cimorene said. "So what's your fourth point?"

"You're overworked," Morwen said. She held up a hand. "Hear me out. You went through some _very_ dramatic events recently, with no time to think and process things afterwards. You went straight from fighting wizards to trying to get up to speed as the Chief Cook and Librarian for the King of the Dragons. It's a great deal more work than just being Kazul's Princess. You look tired, and under normal circumstances you would not be dithering like this. You need a break. Perhaps not _now_ , but soon. Although I don't know that going home to deal with Therandil _again_ would necessarily be much of a break."

"I know," Cimorene said with a sigh. "But—"

"No _buts_ ," Morwen said firmly. "Not only do you need some time off, you need to scale back what you're doing, or at least find more efficient ways to do it. No other King of the Dragons has ever had a Chief Cook and Librarian, Kazul can get by without you doing everything. Figure out which things _you_ have to do and delegate the rest. I doubt everything will seem so overwhelming once you've had time to rest and recover a bit."

"If I went home, that would be a break," Cimorene said.

"From your duties, but not from Therandil's trouble," Morwen pointed out. "And honestly, Cimorene, you describe your mother as very adept at politics and such, much better than you are. Why don't you just explain the whole situation and what _you_ are dealing with and then _ask her_ what she needs? And trust that she can do her job as well now as she ever did it while you were there. You can come over and spend a day or two at my place and use my magic mirror—I'm assuming your court magician has one?"

"He should," Cimorene said.

"Well, then, it's settled," Morwen said. "You can tell Kazul you're spending a few days with me. While you're here, you can call your mother and ask."

* * *

It was amazing how much difference time to relax made, Cimorene reflected a week later, sitting on Morwen's porch and sipping cider, idly watching the forest around the house. Being the Enchanted Forest, interesting things happened with some regularity, and even when it was quiet, it was a beautiful view filled with rich color. Morwen had given her a spare room, and asked nothing of her. It would get tedious before too long—Cimorene didn't do well with idleness—but for now it was just what she needed.

"Cimorene?" Morwen stuck her head out the front door. "It's time."

Cimorene drank the last of her cider and headed back in to the house.

On the other side of the mirror, Wynellise listened as Cimorene explained how busy she was. "I know that Therandil and Keredwel are making trouble, and I was wondering if you needed my help to deal with them, or if I could wait to visit until after things have settled down a bit?"

"I've handled far worse crises than this, caused by far craftier opponents than Therandil and Keredwel, my dear," Wynellise said dryly. "There are any number of avenues for handling it. Your presence would be helpful for some of them, but we'll get by just fine without you. Don't worry. Take care of yourself, settle in, and we can schedule a visit for later. And if your dragon doesn't pull back her expectations to something more reasonable, she may expect a very _sharp_ note from the kingdom. And I'm sure I could find a knight or two you wouldn't dislike too badly who would be able to take instructions and fight Kazul whether or not you tried to stop it, and whether or not you are technically her princess."

Cimorene sighed. "No, mother, it's not Kazul's fault, I just need to learn to delegate better and pace myself more."

"See that you do," her mother said with a sharp nod. "And don't forget to write. I love you, dear."

"I love you too, Mother," Cimorene said. "Give my love to Father and the rest."

Her mother's image dissolved in the mirror, which reverted to a reflection of the room. Cimorene sighed and went back out to the porch to finish her cider.


End file.
